


Soul Cage

by melianthegreat



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Drama, Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rescue Missions, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 17:57:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16497461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melianthegreat/pseuds/melianthegreat
Summary: Richard is presumed dead after a disaster, but husband James can't accept it. And he's right: Richard is captive; James and Jeremy have to save him before he's lost forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is shorter than usual for me, which means it's still pretty long. Hope you like it.

_**There is an old legend, one around as long as boats and sailors have existed. It says when someone is lost at sea, their soul is taken to a cave at the bottom of the ocean and placed in a cage by Satan. A loved one who wants to retrieve the captive must dive to the cave and challenge Satan to a drinking game. If the loved one manages to drink Satan under the table, the captive and the loved one are set free. If Satan drinks the loved one under the table, both souls are trapped in Hell for eternity.** _

_**Almost everyone loses this game.** _

***

_He was diving, down, down, ever down, going toward the darkness. He was scared, his lungs were close to bursting, but he was desperate. He had to get to the bottom. Something was down here, something he wanted. Badly. He didn't stop until his palm touched the sand at the bottom. Where was it, what he was so desperate to find? He was running out of time..._

James awoke in the dark in his own bed, taking a tentative breath lest he was dreaming right now and he was still underwater. What filled his lungs was, in fact, air, and he took a much deeper breath. Feeling his heart pattering, knowing he wasn't just going to roll over and go back to sleep immediately, he stumbled to the loo to wash his face and grab a drink of water. When he returned he crawled back over to Richard, still deeply asleep.

James smiled in the dark, staring at his husband's sleeping form. If Hammond was awake right now he'd be worried. That was an occupational hazard of being married to someone with frequent nightmares, James figured. It had taken time and therapy and support for him to get a handle on them, to realize how much anxiety he'd carried since the first serious accident years ago. He and Richard had been married almost two years now, a fact that helped ground him, giving him safety and security. Yes, Richard was still content to fully embrace Life, to not always play things safe, to never act his age. But time had given him reason to stick around; his now-adult daughters, his friendships and associates. And there was James. James had to learn that fact, that Richard had reasons to not be completely reckless, and that sometimes the cost of his not dying had been the occasional event that risked everything. And so now the nightmares were contained.

But...what was this one? What had he been so desperate to find? What was important enough to risk drowning?

In his sleep Richard snuggled closer to James, resting his head against James' chest. James gladly let him, hoping the proximity of the man he loved would let him go back to sleep. In a few minutes it did.

***

"You look like shit, May."

James grimaced slightly. "Thanks, Clarkson," he replied.

"But Hammond is looking as fresh as a daisy," Jeremy observed. "So that means either you didn't sleep well last night while he did, or my imagination is going to torment me with images of you two having sex where he just looks younger and you just wither away." He lifted his tablet and continued to read the article he found. "But what do I expect from someone whose neighbors were Fred and Wilma Flintstone?"

"That's quite enough out of you, Jeremy Clarkstone," James grumbled good-naturally as Richard laughed. "If you must know, I had a strange dream that I entered midway, and I can't figure out what it means."

"I know what it means, " Richard offered. "It means you have to be more careful what you eat just before bedtime."

"I had a nightmare about Daleks last night," Jeremy added. "What do you suppose that means?"

"It means you're watching too much _Doctor Who_ ," Andy Wilman answered as he entered the room and made some tea. "And if we're all done with the dream analysis, we need to get the Conversation Street segment written for this week's episode."

"So much for Bollocks Hour," Richard sighed as everyone filed into the writing room. He turned to James, who was making a cup of tea. "And I'm getting you home early tonight so I can draw you a hot bath, rub your back, and get you to tell me all about your dream." He stroked James' back with concern.

"Really, Hammond, I am not holding out on you," he replied. "I truly have no clue what I was doing there or what I was seeking."

"You knew you were seeking me when you'd dream of that mountain in Canada," Richard countered.

"Yes, and in those dreams I'd find you dead," James acknowledged. "Obviously those dreams were wrong. And it doesn't explain why I'm trying to find the bottom of the ocean. Meanwhile, we better get to work before Wilman has us sleep with the fishes."

***

James couldn't argue with Richard's effort to relax him for sleep. The house was quiet, bath drawn, music and lighting soft. Richard sat with him in the tub, simply letting James recline in his arms, massaging his back once he was out, planting soft kisses on his skin. Normally James would be incredibly turned on by all the attention, but the interrupted sleep had affected him, something that had become unusual. So all of Richard's ministrations resulted in making James very sleepy. 

"James?"

"Mmmmmmmm"

"Let's go work on your motorbike."

"Mmmmmm."

"James?"

"Mmmmmmm."

"Someone stole your Ferrari and tampered with your Panda."

"Mmmmmmmm."

"James?"

"Mmmmmm."

"I'm lying here completely naked, begging you to tie me up and use me any way you see fit."

"Mmmmmm."

"Come to bed, you tired old man," Richard said with affection in his voice. Somehow James managed to crawl a few feet until Richard could cover him with the duvet. "I love you," Richard whispered gently.

"Love you," James replied with some effort. He didn't even remember the light going out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James meets a mysterious stranger and disaster happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A naughty section here. Skip that part of you wish.

_James felt the chop of the waves deep in his back. He hated rough seas, always did. Give him the air, flying along in his plane where turbulence could mostly be avoided. You can plan for it, fly around it. Not on the water. And not if this is where you can find what you're so desperate to find._

_He came to a stop in the churning water. Then suddenly he was in the water, diving into the dark, hoping he had enough air in his lungs. What he was seeking was there, but what was it? A certain pull deep inside kept him going, knowing what he sought was always ahead of him._

_His palm touched the sandy bottom, but still he searched, still he swam forward. Until he found a cave.What he wanted so badly was inside. He swam toward it..._

James awoke to the alarm telling him it was time to get going. Breakfast. Shower. DriveTribe. He sighed at the empty space next to him. Richard was away filming, a project for Amazon's new documentary division, and the first full day apart was always the hardest. At least there was something to occupy part of his time until Richard called in later and they engaged in a healthy round of phone sex. And during the time apart James might actually have the energy to figure out his dream and what it means.

The latest dream became the topic of discussion around the DriveTribe office that day, when the discussion wasn't about work; the office had enough of a playground atmosphere so that off-topic discussions were encouraged, as long as the day's work got done. Hence the races to assemble shipping boxes and the challenge of building Lego cars while drinking shots of Not Vodka (for legal reasons).

"I think you're dreaming of Soul Cages," Andy said to James as they had lunch.

 

"What are Soul Cages?" Jeremy asked between bites of food.

"It's a bit of folklore," Andy explained. "It says the Devil lives in a cave at the bottom of the ocean and gathers the sailors who are lost at sea there in lobster cages. To get them back a loved one must swim there and challenge Satan to a drinking game. If you drink him under the table you win and the soul goes free."

"What happens if Satan wins?" James asked.

"Both the sailor and the loved one stay in Hell forever."

James looked mystified. "Why would I be dreaming of that?" he asked nearly to himself.

"You picked it up somewhere," Jeremy observed. "Then it got trapped inside a corner of your brain and stayed there. Of course the question is why that strange piece of information got stuck in there in the first place. But then, it's you."

"These old stories are part of human existence," Andy said. "That's why our ancestors made up these stories and passed them on. How many people dream of Atlantis?"

"Tolkien did," James mentioned . He looked up from his lunch to see Jeremy and Andy staring intently at him, waiting for him to continue. "J.R.R. Tolkien had recurring nightmares about a giant tsunami covering the countryside and drowning it," he said. "When he heard the story of how Atlantis was formed, he started to write the first stories of Middle Earth, about the downfall of Numenor. Then the dreams stopped."

Andy and Jeremy stated at each other for a few silent beats. "The freaky thing is what happened later," James continued. "Tolkien apparently told his adult sons the inspiration for his Middle Earth stories. And it turned out one of his sons had the same recurring nightmares since childhood."

There was a long moment of silence. "Weird shit gets stuck in your brain," Andy replied.

***

"Hammond, _Bloody Nora_ ," James gasped, trying to catch his breath; on the other end he could hear Richard in the same condition. There was a breathless chuckle. "Two middle aged men who've had careers using words should never engage in phone sex. They'll kill each other."

"Is that such a bad way to go?" Richard laughed. The sound of his voice betrayed his exhaustion. "And your imagination is amazing. Though...you are so fucking kinky."

"I'm not the one who enjoys being tied up," James argued. "I merely followed your scenario of you on your knees while I fucked your mouth."

"And that statement alone in a younger version of me would have me ready to go again," Richard groaned. "As it is, only the mind is willing."

"That's okay. I honestly think another session so soon after this one might give me a heart attack." There was a pause. "So what's the plan for tomorrow?"

"Crossing on the ferry, getting in a few bits to camera, and then on my way home," Richard answered. "Though your dream interpretation skills make me have second thoughts about going near the water."

James smiled. "That's folklore, Rich. The story of Soul Cages has existed as long as ships and sailors." He gathered wipes from his nightstand and proceeded to clean the remnants of their encounter. "And it wasn't my interpretation. Andy said it came from one of the interns, who found it on one of those dream interpretation websites."

"At any rate, we owe them lunch, maybe even a pint," Richard answered. "Do you realize, not very long ago you would be the one truly worried about such things and I would be the one reassuring you? And now, you're the one reminding me that it's just folklore."

"That's a sign of my growth as a human being," James stated with a chipper little grin. "It's also the acceptance of how much I love you."

"Oh, fuck off! " James could hear Richard imitating retching sounds. "You've managed some cheesy moments during our time together, May, but _really_?"

James laughed. "Really," he replied. "And because you so criticized my expression of love, you deserve a fitting punishment."

There was silence on the other end, a sign what James announced was sinking in. "What..." Richard's voice cracked. "...what kind of punishment?"

"Call me back in an hour," James commanded. "Then you're going to describe for me how I'm going to tie your hands together at the front, then bend you over and pound that ass of yours from behind. Do you understand?"

He heard Richard's shuddering whimper. "Yes, James."

"And Richard? Cleaning yourself only. You can think about touching yourself, but I want you hard enough to cut diamonds," he practically snarled.

"James..."

"One hour. I mean it." James hung up and smiled evilly. He knew his husband would do exactly as he ordered.

***

It was a good thing today was a bit of a light day.

When James woke up this morning he'd considered whether he should work from home today, then rejected the idea. Being home alone, knowing Richard was off filming, made James miss him far too much. That would lead to thinking about Richard. Then that would lead to thinking about last night's sessions of phone sex. Then James would spend his day wanking, and while that might be fun, he'd not get any work done at all.

As it was, James had spent his morning on researching the latest Renault and catching up with DriveTribe comments. He'd already posted for his Tribe and was reading Jeremy's missive when he decided on lunch at the pub. And maybe a round of darts.

He was nearly finished with his rather filling sandwich and chips when he saw a middle aged woman approaching him. James had gotten used to this over the years, having fan support among women as well as men. She was dressed simply, with a basic cream top with plain black skirt that stopped just above the knee. Her blonde hair was straight and cut into a bob. Normally James would be slightly annoyed: the pub was a place for him to relax, a place for food and a pint and just let him be with his mates. This pub and his local in Hammersmith were protective of him, too; annoying fans were generally kept at a distance. Something about her, though, didn't ring any alarm bells.

"Hello, James," she greeted him, her voice clipped with a German accent.

"Hello," he greeted her in return, grinning politely. He wasn't sure which direction this was likely to go. With Jeremy, she would hope he'd insult her car, a badge of honor; Hammond received more than his fair share of women, but they were usually younger than this, or real elderly mother types who wanted to pinch his cheeks. But as it was him, it was clear she was highly intelligent. She probably wanted advice about a type of car, if anything.

"I have a message for you." Uh oh, one of them. Ever since news broke of his relationship and marriage to Richard, people occasionally wanted to tell one of them how they'd burn in Hell because they were together, that God would never accept their abhorrent behavior, and they should repent before it was too late. Either that, or a warning how alien species watched the show and would soon be visiting to probe his brain, and a hat made of tinfoil would keep them from tracking him. James steeled himself for the onslaught.

Instead, the German woman simply said, "When you are ready to find the cave, meet me right here." Then she handed him a card and left. James was bewildered. Find the cave? What cave? What she said sounded barmy, so why did her blue eyes seem so full of reason? What the hell? He absently placed the card in his wallet, paid his bill, and left for the office.

***

Jeremy was taking a break from writing. Actually, he was stuck, and he figured leaving it to get tea would be just the thing to get the words unstuck in his brain. He chatted briefly with members of the staff, trying to prolong not going back to not writing. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Andy reach for the phone. In a moment he placed it on hold and walked into the conference room and shut the door. _Important call_ , Jeremy observed. As he sat back down at his desk he noticed Andy still on the phone. Then, from twenty feet away, Jeremy watched Andy Wilman's face go white as he tried to hang up the phone.

 _Whatever this is, it's bad_ , Jeremy mused. A member of Andy's family? Jeff Bezos chew him out? Andy was his oldest friend, and Jeremy realized he'd gotten a call very few people are ever ready to get.

His mobile chimed in his pocket. A text from Andy. Need to see you. Now. As inconspicuously as a six-and-a-half-foot middle aged man built like an orangutan could manage, Jeremy headed for the conference room.

Jeremy could see Wilman's face. He remembered when his mother had died, the night he'd gotten the call about his Dad being in hospital and to come right away. Whatever the news on the other end, Jeremy just had to look at that face to understand. "Who died?" he asked, making the tone of voice as gentle as he possibly could.

At first Andy didn't answer, just sat there in shock with his face gone white. "A rogue wave," he finally said. He looked up at Jeremy and swallowed. "A storm hit the ferry as it was crossing. A rogue wave came. Hammond was just standing there and then..." Jeremy's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. _Don't finish the sentence_ , he thought; Richard Hammond was still alive on this end of the sentence, and on the other side he wasn't, Jeremy knew that. "He went overboard," Andy continued. "He went over, and...now they can't find him."

Like in Hemburg, Jeremy's knees went weak. This time they gave out completely and he crashed down into the chair. Unlike Hemburg, this time there would be no reprieve, nobody to announce over the radio things were okay after all. Richard was lost to them, and even if they ever got him back there was no surviving this. Jeremy put his head in his hands, shaking it in disbelief. "Fucking hell," he heard himself gasp. "Are they sure? I mean, we all know what a tough bastard he really is. He, of all people, would find a way to stay afloat, make himself seen. There's nothing Rich can't do to survive."

"They've been searching the area for survivors now for a couple of hours," Andy explained . "At this point the authorities are calling it a _recovery_." Andy took a glance past Jeremy at the team working away outside the conference room. "Jezza, we have to tell them, make the calls to our families, and to Amazon. As much as we both want to fall apart, right now we can't. And we have to tell James."

"Oh, shit. James," Jeremy sighed. For a dark moment he'd forgotten about James. At Hemburg he'd practically had to tackle the man to the ground to keep him from trying to rescue Hammond from a burning car; Hammond had gotten away before the car had burst into flames, but neither knew that at the time. And how would James take this? He knew how deeply he loved Richard, had loved him for years before they ended up together. 

"Oh, God," Jeremy heard Andy whisper. Jeremy looked over his shoulder. James was returning from lunch. Jeremy saw Andy motion to him to enter. A knot formed in his stomach.

Time to tell the news.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard has an encounter; James tried to convince Jeremy

Richard hated the choppy water. And he was reminded he hated it every time he leaned over the side to expel anything he'd ever eaten in his life.

Right now he couldn't remember why he'd agreed to cross on a ferry. Because where they were going to shoot was on the other side, and it was pretty, he thought. And if the waters had been calm it would have been okay. But there had been rough weather churning up the waves. And he might have had a bit to drink last night. None of it was conducive to keeping things inside. 

He leaned over again, heaving. Everything seemed to be getting progressively worse--the sky darker, the rocking harder. The waves crashing against the sides were larger. Richard stood, resolved no matter what to go below, knowing instinctively that it was safer inside. That's when the wave hit broadside. The force knocked everything sideways. Richard found himself flying through the air. Then he hit the water with the force of hitting a concrete wall. Everything went black.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been out. When he came to, however, Richard found himself dry and inside a cage. He appeared to be indoors, or at least inside. And nothing was swaying, at least that was a plus. But where was he? And shouldn't people be looking for him? Where was everyone? It wasn't the first time he'd woken up alone in a new landscape and didn't know where he was, but that wasn't something he wanted to think about. 

"You're awake," came a voice. Into the dull light stepped a man, or appeared a man. He was well dressed, tall, close-cropped hair, with a goatee. "You are Richard, and I have been waiting for you for a long time."

"Where am I?" Richard asked.

"Someplace safe, for now," the man answered. "You were knocked overboard. I found you and brought you here. To wait."

"To wait for what?" Richard asked warily; an inner voice was telling him to not let this man's appearance deceive him.

"For someone to come," the man answered calm. "First, they must realize where you really are. Then, they must find the strength to come for you. And then, they must face me. It's hardly as easy as it sounds."

"Who?"

"A loved one. And you have so many! If I had realized that earlier perhaps I would have contrived this before now. But I had to wait for the opportunity. This only seems to work at sea, for some reason."

"I remember a storm, and a wave," Richard whispered, searching his memory, "but I am not wet. Are you telling me l am still at sea?" He was wondering if he had indeed drowned, and this was all some elaborate dream caused by the lack of oxygen.

The man smiled. "You are where I have you," he answered, "and you shall stay here until I decide what is to be done. Either a loved one shall come for you, or you shall become mine forever if nobody comes."

"If nobody comes, shall I stay here?"

"No," said the man. "I will take you to another place."

"And where is that?"

The man laughed heartily. "Have you not recognized me?! I would have thought by now you would have guessed." He paused, waiting. "Still no idea?" He searched Richard's face for a sign of recognition. "Unusual. Not innocent by any means, but definitely not a purveyor. Your life simply doesn't allow me in it." He sighed. "Then allow me to introduce myself, though you will be shocked. I am Mephistopheles, and I have captured you. And I intend to claim you for all eternity unless someone tries to stop me."

Richard sat back. "Now I know I'm dreaming," he muttered. "You can't possibly be real."

"Oh, I am real," Mephistopheles replied. "And you are really here. No oxygen deprivation involved. You are Richard Hammond, and I have been working to get you for the longest time." He shook his head in wonder. "You know, having someone with a daredevil streak, descended from those with the same streak, who has a penchant for motorcycles and fast, powerful cars, should have made this easy for me." He leaned in towards Richard, who instinctively sat back a bit. "I have been laying traps for you for decades, starting in childhood, in fact. But you always seemed to innocently trip them and walk away none the wiser. I tried when you got your first motorcycle.You didn't take the bait. Finally when you started working on TV I thought I had my chance. I tried to strike you with lightning, I tried to drown you inside a car. Still nothing."

"Happy to disappoint you," Richard defiantly answered.

"I thought I had you in 2006," Mephistopheles continued. "You became obsessed with going as fast as you could. I made sure that tire developed the defect. But I never anticipated your strength, the strength of those around you. Your will to live was remarkable. It made me redouble my efforts, but everyone was simply too protective of you afterwards. So, I bided my time. Oh, I still tried, like in Mozambique and Switzerland --I was actually surprised that nearly worked, by the way. But you still eluded my grasp. Until now."

"But why me?" Richard asked. "Why am I such a target?"

Mephistopheles gave a cold laugh. "Do you know what Hell is, Richard?" He asked in reply. "It's not just fire. It drains people slowly. It's depressing. They long for their suffering to be over, but it never is. In this life, so many are drawn to you because of your life force. It radiates. It's powerful, and surviving death makes it even stronger. I intend to use that for my own purposes. They shall be strengthened by you, and that will make their suffering linger."

"Unless someone comes along to challenge you."

"Richard, _nobody_ challenges me," Mephistopheles purred.

***

It had been two weeks since Richard had gone overboard. Soon he would be officially declared dead. He wasn't the only one; several passengers on that ferry had been washed over by the rogue wave; a few had survived, some had not. But Richard was the only one not recovered. 

There had been an immediate public reaction of shock and grief over the news. James knew Richard had been loved by so many, most who had never met him, but loved him regardless. But until the official declaration, James steadfastly refused to take part in anything regarding a memorial service, and until an official declaration, the legal work of settling his estate could not happen. He wasn't going to stop Richard's family from making funeral arrangements, and he knew Izzy and Willow needed to have the chance to mourn. But he simply didn't want to participate.

 _He's gone into shock_ , people who knew James said among themselves. _It's a reaction to grief. Sooner or later reality will set in_. Those who were close knew just how deeply James loved Richard, had done so many years before they became a couple, and were worried. When the dam burst it was likely he'd die. Literally. He'd never be able to go on without him. James always had that British sensibility of "Keep Calm and Carry On", but he was going to be constitutionally incapable of managing that. Those who attended their wedding in Aruba had seen how these two men had become a part of one another, that the fusing of their souls had probably happened long before either had an inkling of their feelings being more than just great mates. If one was taken away, the other couldn't exist.

The reality was, James May wasn't in denial, wasn't blocking himself from his feelings. He simply didn't believe Richard Hammond was dead.

This was something that happened over the years. Because of work, James and Richard had rarely been apart unless they were between series. And yet, one had the unerring capacity to contact the other at just the right moment. An email showing an absolutely ridiculous potential purchase, a question in a text, a phone call. It would always be at the time one would, upon reflection, desperately need the contact. At work one could tell when the other wasn't well, in spite of filming separately or distance; the supportive comment or joke or the bowl of chicken soup was always provided before the other could ask for it (James bought the Lego set for Richard while recovering from the brain injury during one of these phases). Fans could pick up on a certain "vibe" between them, an endless source of humour with cast and crew with various comments by the fans, along with a lot of fanfiction and speculation. James and Richard eventually spoke of it, one of those things couples would talk about to each other and nobody else, because nobody else would understand. There was laughter, but also the acceptance of a particular connection that perhaps existed long before realizing their own attraction. 

At any rate, James was convinced of the fact if something bad ever happened to Hammond while they were apart, he would sure as hell know it deep down. Right now, deep down, nothing was telling James he would never see Richard again. But something was saying things were all wrong, something he would have to fix. Soon.

***

Meanwhile, while the speculation and worry that James was a ticking time bomb was rampant, the one in danger of falling apart completely was Jeremy. 

The experience of losing Richard was eating him alive. His public persona had been one of an insensitive arse who had a massive ego, a persona he enjoyed playing to the hilt. The private Jeremy Clarkson was much more sympathetic, creative, caring, and occasionally an insensitive arse with a massive ego; problem was nobody knew when he was that way for real or to hide his vulnerability. Richard's disappearance had stripped away his ability to protect himself. They had been part of the original gang that brought back _Top Gear_ , along with Andy Wilman, and made it work. Richard and Jeremy had been mates and allies through a lot of shit, including the struggles Richard had as his brain hit the reset button, protecting him from those who wanted to end the program, end Richard's job and any chance he had of recovery to essentially the same Richard he'd auditioned and connected to and bonded with and became his mate. Jeremy's grief was evident: drinking heavily, appearing bleary-eyed the next morning at the DriveTribe office with massive hangovers, having to frequently excuse himself to weep in private.

Andy wasn't much better. He'd always been a bit shamboilic in display, but there had always been method within the madness. Now there was just something near madness. He was supposed to be helping to plan out a public memorial to Richard, arrange an exit strategy with Amazon, and plot what was going to happen next, including handling Jeremy and James. Instead he would show up, say hello, then retreat to his office, close the door, and stay there. Andy never closed himself off if he could help it. The natives became restless with the whole situation. On top of their own grief there were now three ticking time bombs running things, two on the verge of potential suicidal depression, one who could just go mental at any point (the fact James never lost his temper made him the perfect candidate for a colossal meltdown, leading to a violent end). Add to it greater than usual job insecurity, and it simply wasn't a happy scene.

One evening, Jeremy invited James to his house in Chipping Norton for the weekend. It had been Andy's idea. He wanted Jeremy to try and get under the facade of May's denial, perhaps get him to the point where he learned to accept Richard's death, so they could begin the work of their winding down the production. And, to be honest, it was also in hope James spending time there would help Jeremy get a handle on his own grief for Hammond. Andy had done this when Jeremy's wife left, when his mother died, and (eventually) when Top Gear was taken away. The boys having those rare private social moments together helped, at least a little.

That Friday night James showed up at Clarkson's house with a bottle of wine. The scent of a curry greeted him when Jeremy opened the door, appearing to have started drinking without him. "You drove the Panda?" He asked James .

"Of course."

Jeremy glared at him a beat. He hated the Panda, and James knew it. James did consider his Ferrari, but it would have been patronizing, and lately James felt like being contrary. "Shit car," Clarkson muttered and let him inside. "We'll move it later. I don't want the paparazzi to think I'm slumming it."

The curry was spicy and delivered, that much was obvious. It gave both men an excuse to drink even more wine, so by the time they'd finished off the curry both were sufficiently toasted. Jeremy figured this part of the conversation might go better in an inebriated state, so he pulled out a second bottle. 

"Oh, sit down, Jezza," James smiled at him. "It's not a race to see who can get drunk faster. Besides, you'd win. You already had a head start."

"Captain Slow in all things, aren't you?" Jeremy smirked.

"Only where it counts, Clarkson," James fired back, then he stopped. He missed Richard like hell. To James he wasn't dead, but that didn't mean he didn't long for him: the way he'd throw his head back when laughing hard, the flutter of his lashes when he'd look at James, the scandalized expression on his face whenever Jeremy made an outrageously inappropriate statement (quickly followed by Richard's equally outrageous and inappropriate statement), the way he'd whisper softly to James as James came down from a particularly intense orgasm, the times he'd find Richard leaning back on the couch, napping, cats purring on his chest. For half a moment it became overwhelming that he had no idea where Richard was, what had happened to him, or how he was going to find him again.

And if James believed that moment would go unnoticed by Jeremy, he was wrong. "I miss him, too," Jeremy muttered, taking a swig of wine. "The arse always had a way to make you miss his presence, even when you knew he was just at another part of the track."

"Was?" James responded. "Jezza, he's not dead." 

Jeremy stared at him for a long moment. "Look, I think I understand this," he explained patiently. "When Wilman told me a part of me wanted to believe he was wrong, and as the hours passed a part of me clung to the idea he'd be found alive. You know how tough he is. But James, it's time for all of us to face some realities."

"I'm aware," James acknowledged, calm. "You're going to explain to me it's been weeks. The bodies of the others washed overboard and drowned have been recovered, while his has not. There is no sign of him--no sighting, no activity on his credit cards or calls on his mobile. Everything points to the idea Richard is dead and I'm just in some form of psychotic denial. But Jez, he's not. He's not."

"And how do you know this?" Jeremy argued.

"I just know." James answered obstinately.

Jeremy grew frustrated; James had a resolute expression on his face, one that said he was digging in his heels and stubbornly refusing to listen. "James, do you have any idea just how fucking barmy you sound?" He shouted. "We have to go forward--everyone has to go forward so we can put ourselves back together again, and we can't because you're under some grand delusion that Richard is still alive! Mate, I'd love to be wrong about this, and trust me, I never want to be wrong about things. I want to get a phone call saying Richard's been found and he's alright, that he just needed to get away and he's been in a remote part of the world living in a yurt and fucking Kristin Scott Thomas, but that is not going to happen. He is dead, James, as much as you want it to be different. But as his spouse, you have to move to make the declaration. Until you do, nobody can mourn him properly. Not his daughters, not his family, not his mates, nobody. It's time for you to pull your head out of your own arse and see reason!"

James listened to Jeremy's tirade. He didn't feel angry; everyone knew of Jeremy's intense grief over Richard's loss, and this was definitely a form of venting, considerably better than his secret bouts of tears in the loo. James knew how upset his friend truly was, and was longing for the chance to move forward for his own benefit as everyone else. "Jezza, take a long look at me, then take a long look at Rich, and recall everything you know about us together," James replied with calm in his voice, "then tell me what I know isn't reality."

Jeremy stopped. He locked eyes with James and held his gaze for a long time, stunned by their expression. In James' blue eyes he expected to see him just barely holding onto himself, as if one slip would force his entire world to collapse, so he was going to hold on to this for dear life. What he saw there was rational, considered, _reasoned_. It was so true, and so James, nothing and nobody could argue otherwise. "Oh my God," he sighed, feeling for just a second like the physical laws of the universe had shifted and every molecule was trying to dissolve. "James, where is he?"

James opened another bottle of wine, aware the conversation had sobered both of them up. "I have no idea," he answered. "I do think, however, he is someplace where he cannot come to us."

"He's a captive? But we've had no information. No sighting, no demand for ransom. Where would we even begin to look?"

James shrugged. "I wish to God I knew," he answered. "All this time it's been an effort just to not give up on the idea. Everyone has offered their support and I know Wilman has to go about business, and the Hammonds have to sort out their responsibilities. The pressure to simply give in and placate people is tremendous. But I can't. I can't do that to Richard. I can't give up on everything he means to me." James glanced away, his eyes brimming with tears. Jeremy forgot his own grief and remembered at the end of the day, James and Richard were married, and it was natural the pain of enforced separation was taking a toll.

"So, what's our next move, Slow?" Jeremy asked. There was still a voice in the back of his head unsure if he believed Hammond was alive. But James believed it, and he believed James.

"There is someone I need to seek out," James answered. "Then we'll know."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James seeks help.

"Who are we meeting again?" Jeremy asked.

"A woman," James answered.

"Well, that narrows it down," Jeremy replied, looking around. They had gone to the pub near the DriveTribe office, the pub James had lunch in the day Richard disappeared. " _Which_ woman?"

"I had a German woman approach me," James explained. "At first I thought she was a fan. Then she gave me her card and a message to call her when I was ready to find a cave. I called her. She's meeting us."

"James, is 'find a cave' code for something else?" Clarkson smirked, "because I think she was coming on to you. Too bad she's going to be disappointed."

James appreciated the concern Jeremy held, and his attempt at humour, but now really wasn't the time. "The dreams keep happening," James replied after a moment. "They're actually getting stronger. Now I can feel a sense of urgency with them, as if I'm being warned to seek out this woman before it's too late. Right now I don't think I have much to lose. It's either try this or give in to the demands and move to declare him dead, and we both realize he isn't."

Jeremy nodded silently. James had experienced recurring dreams before and quite believed repeating dreams were a message. Normally that involved the message it was time to service an engine or change the oil, but not always. There had been times the messages were quite serious. So once James started talking about hearing a message in a recurring dream, Jeremy knew better than to laugh too much at it.

They ordered food and ate and drank, looking around for someone approaching. Finally came a voice: "Hello, James. I am Sabine Gundegast." James turned the see her. Sure enough, it was the same woman who had approached him previously. She wasn't tall, with strawberry blonde hair she carefully tied back, her face neither old nor young. 

James and Jeremy stood and greeted her, sitting only when she was seated and settled in her chair. She looked at James a long time, studying him. Finally, she sighed and looked sympathetic. "Often what we consider old legends or tales of childhood told by elders so children behave are based on fact," she said. "As outrageous as they are, they have happened. If I am correct, this has happened to you, though few believe it." Sabine looked at Jeremy. "You being here says you have trust in your friend and possess an open mind. Do you promise to be open to these ideas even if they conflict with any spiritual beliefs or what you accept as reality?" Both Jeremy and James nodded. Sabine reached across the table and took James' hands into hers. Jeremy noticed even though the pub was active, seemingly the sounds of pub life faded and others about them were ignoring their presence.

"You are dreaming of a loved one," Sabine reported. "You are in the water, diving down, wondering how you are breathing. You find the bottom but you keep searching. Then, you find a cave."

James said nothing, merely nodding. "How did you know about--?" Jeremy spluttered. "We have never discussed this outside the office."

"What he is dreaming really exists," Sabine answered. "And we have very little time. To get your loved one back we must move quickly."

"Wait, wait, wait," Jeremy waved his hand to make her stop. "Just what are you saying here? Are you suggesting Hammond is stuck in a cave?"

"Not just stuck," James told him. "We're not talking about little boys who got lost in a cave in Thailand. He's a captive."

Jeremy nearly spit the wine he was drinking. "He was _what_?!"

"He's been taken, Jezza," James answered solemnly. "For whatever reason, he was chosen."

"And a disaster was set in place to hide the fact he was taken," Sabine continued. "Are you familiar with the legend of the Soul Cages? Your loved one has been placed in a Soul Cage."

Jeremy shook his head. "Oh, fucking hell!" he nearly laughed. "This is the point I get off the crazy train." He stood up. "Slow, I was willing to play along, even willing to meet with this woman. I thought she was some kind of psychic about to tell us Hammond's been kidnapped and we were going to work to release him. But you're wanting us to match off on some crusade to find him in a fucking cage in an underwater cave? She's as mad as you!" Jeremy walked away.

"Jezza--"

"NO!" Jeremy argued back. "If you want to do something this incredibly stupid and follow her, I can't stop you. Just don't expect me to be an idiot along with you." He stormed out of the pub. James followed behind.

"Jeremy!" he called. "Jez, wait! Where are you going? Clarkson, Goddamn it, stop!"   
Inches from his car Jeremy wheeled around. "Precisely what the fuck is wrong with you, May?" He demanded. "You're willing to believe in fairy tales now? James, Soul Cages are FOLKLORE! They don't fucking exist. No matter what this German woman says, the story isn't real. Have you stopped to consider she might be a part of this? That she was a part of what happened to Hammo, feeds you this load of bollocks so you go with her, and then gets the drop on you with the promise you'll see him again? Not even you are that fucking desperate."

"You don't fucking know who or what I am right now, Clarkson!!" James fired back. "You can't possibly know..." He shook his head, took a deep breath, and continued. "When you were married, you never woke up every morning knowing Francie was alive, but you couldn't convince anyone else she was. You didn't know deep down something had happened to her, that she was a prisoner, but everyone kept saying, 'forget her, she's dead, let the rest of us move on in peace '. You never realized the most outlandish explanation possible was the very reason you were apart, but you knew no one would believe you or simply thought you were mental. And, for the record, I still don't believe in folklore. I don't think trolls live in forests or in Minnesota there lives a giant lumberjack with a blue ox. All I know right now is Sabine has an idea of where Richard is and how to get him back, and she's waiting in there to tell me. And if ISIL is holding him hostage and I have to pay a shitload in ransom, or he's been taken by bloody goblins and I have to slaughter a goat, I'll do it. You can choose to believe it or not. **Just.Don't.Fucking.Stop.Me.** " With that, James turned back and headed into the pub.

For a moment Jeremy stared after him. Then he sighed. _I think I'm going to regret this_ , he said to himself, probably one of the few times he ever said it beforehand, and matched back in.

***

It was nighttime, judging from how dim the lights in the cave seemed to be. Richard wondered at that; did Satan need to sleep as well, or was this being done for his benefit? He remembered back to the recovery from his brain injury. His neurologist insisted he take a nap every day, because the brain simply needed some time to shut down and get quiet, and at first he resisted. But as he went along he realized the basic functioning of the brain was occasionally tiring, so he learned to accept it. He didn't just accept it, he embraced the idea, even napping at mid-afternoon during remote shoots. Those who didn't know better put it down to idleness, but those who'd been around realized this was important for his health.

He had the sneaking suspicion Satan wanted him to be in a fully rational frame of mind when he was finally sent to hell.

Actually, Richard felt he'd been sent to hell already. The cage was small, and while he could move around it wasn't roomy. Richard had always been a restless sort, always wanting to be in motion; even sitting still he'd drum his fingers on his thigh or fidget uncomfortably. He could walk around, but not much, and he loved the open space, one of the reasons he preferred the countryside to cities. It was ironic to him that as compact as his body was, as easily as he could justify smaller spaces in his mind, he couldn't stand the feeling of being restrained. Right now he felt about as restrained as he could be.

Richard tried to sleep, but the image of James lying next to him filled his heart with longing. He missed his husband: his blue eyes, lined with crow's feet caused by too much laughter, his casual sense of being in the world, his presence seemingly welcome but not required by anyone (least of all James), the sheer poetry of his soul, whether writing or tinkering or cooking or playing the second movement of Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto in C Minor. Richard could write and paint and play the bass, but James' entire life seemed to be one long poem to explore and decipher. And now he was separated from James, his poet. And that for Richard was the very definition of hell.

***

At the exact same moment in Hammersmith, James lay on his side of the bed, sadly caressing the side Richard slept on, listening to the same section of music. He felt connected to Richard the same way he always felt, as if he could actually see him lying in the dark. It was this connection James hoped to use to get Hammond back. 

"Wherever you are, Rich," James whispered, "I will get you back. I promise."

And in a dim underwater cave, trapped in a cell and missing his love, Richard heard.


	5. Chapter 5

James shivered in the moist air, moist from the dawn and the low ceiling of clouds and wind that was the forerunner to rain. "Are you sure about this?" Jeremy asked . "The weather doesn't look promising."

"Sabine said the weather conditions needed to be as close to identical as the day Richard disappeared as possible," James answered. "The weather was stormy out there. The rogue wave can't be duplicated, but the conditions are pretty close."

"Which means we can die, too," Jeremy stared up at the sky doubtfully. "You do realize people did die? They drowned."

James looked at Jeremy sympathetically. This had been a big ask of him, something he would never ask of mates, yet he'd asked it of Clarkson. To have him suspend his disbelief in reality was a stretch when thinking Richard could possibly be alive, that was tough; asking him to put his faith in a psychic met in a pub that she would know how to get Richard back stretched credulity at best; asking Jeremy to look at the conditions that nobody would realistically embark on a water voyage with and think it was all going to be okay and they simply wouldn't die before they could even reach Richard was a bit much. "You know, you don't have to come along with us," he announced gently. "You've helped get me to this point, even when others would've said it was all mad."

"I did make that suggestion," Jeremy reminded him. "It is mad. And daft, and barmy, and any other adjective you want to put on it. But I've come along with you so far, I want to see this through." 

James grinned. "That's the nicest thing you've said to me since you said you believed Rich was still alive," he replied.

"Just don't get used to it," Jeremy warned him. "When you get Hammond back I intend to be absolutely ruthless in taking the Mickey out of both of you." He looked at the growing light. "So, what happens when you do get Hammo back?"

"If I am correct, time will revert itself back to before he was taken," Sabine answered, silently approaching. "It will be as if none of it happened. You will remember, but the world will not."

"What of the others who drowned?" Jeremy asked.

"If there are others who were taken and their loved ones free them, it will be the same for them," Sabine answered. "Unfortunately, if James fails time will continue as it currently has."

"Except...both will be trapped in hell," Jeremy observed. Sabine nodded. He swallowed hard. "Better not fail then," he stated, though James could hear the tightness of his voice. He was scared of losing both of them.

James was, too.

***

Richard was finding it difficult to tell time anymore.

He wasn't sure exactly why, whether from the dim light or his watch was missing and humans in the civilized world had lost the ability to tell time naturally. It could also be a means Mephistopheles had to torment him. That would be part of the plan, Richard considered. That would make sense, because Richard was definitely losing his grip on hope. Hope was not what he wanted to lose. If he lost that a lot of other things would go, too, and Richard felt like at the end of all this a big fight was looming. Maybe a fight as big as not dying all those years ago. Without hope he couldn't imagine having the strength for the fight to come.

"The battle is on," Mephistopheles told him. "I will admit most don't have the courage to challenge me. And those who do tend to lose. You must be loved a great deal for someone to attempt it."

Richard stared up from his seated position. "If it's who I think it is, their courage is greater than you imagine," he answered defiantly. "And if there's a challenge to face, you will underestimate that courage. Then you will lose."

"I think you overestimate that courage," Mephistopheles replied coldly. "Courage is oftentimes confused with foolhardiness. And it is foolhardy to challenge me to a game everyone knows I'll win." Mephistopheles grinned at Richard, and to Richard it felt as if he was being stripped bare. "Assuming, that is, your loved one shows up in time to attempt the game."

Richard blinked. "What does that mean?"

"Meaning, even I have my limits. Remember when I told you how Hell drains you? It has already started. Your life force won't allow this to be quick, but it is draining away nonetheless. If your loved one doesn't show up soon I will possess you utterly and you cannot be saved. Even now you have lost the strength to stand and face me. It will only get worse from here. In fact, it might be easier and better for you to admit defeat and let me take you now. How about it? "

The light in Richard's eyes changed. Slowly, and with a great deal of effort, he got to his feet and stood before Mephistopheles, holding the bars of the cage for support. But it was what Mephistopheles saw in those dark eyes that made the being take a step back. Determination sat in them, grim determination, the knowledge he wasn't about to walk away from his life so easily, eyes full of inner fire, full of a life force Mephistopheles wanted so badly to use to subjugate others, to dangle and cruelly take away, to prolong suffering. But it was still too strong to face, beautifully terrifying to see. "How about I turn down your offer?" Richard replied, his voice resolute. "Someone is coming for me, I can feel it, and that absolutely scares you. If it didn't you wouldn't try to weasel out of the impending challenge like a coward." Richard saw the flash in the eyes of Mephistopheles and knew he'd scored a point.

"Your impudence will cost you dearly," Mephistopheles warned him .

"Careful," Richard shot back, "damaging me damages my so-called life force, and that's what you want to use on others, right?"

There was a pause, and it was clear to Richard that the being was thinking of a response. "My plans can always change," Mephistopheles finally responded. "And if you continue to defy me, I will. And you will watch your loved one suffer, too." He walked away, just as Richard was forced to sit, having lost the strength in his legs. 

***

The weather took a definite turn once the boat was on the water. The only supplies they carried were fishing poles and an assistant to Sabine who doubled as a fishing guide; given the recent disaster the local authorities were patrolling the waters more, and the cover story was they were out fishing when the weather turned and couldn't get back in time. Jeremy realized they'd really have to sell the fishing story because if they told the truth all of them would end up both arrested and committed.

"As we get closer the weather will get worse," Sabine told them . "It's a way to try scaring you off."

Jeremy, seeing the sky turn darker, replied, "I think they're doing a pretty good job of it."

***

Richard was rapidly coming to the conclusion he would never see James again.

It wasn't the first time he'd felt his life being drained from him. When he was stranded on top of the mountain in Canada, suffering from the flu and slowly freezing to death, he'd struggled mightily until he was found just in time. When James had been poisoned by Caroline Shipcomb, stressed and exhausted beyond endurance, he'd had no idea how sick he truly was until his body and mind rebelled and forced him. He was feeling now as he was feeling then, that perhaps he was, in fact, dying, but this whole scenario made him question whether this was life at all. After all, what living person could actually be sitting in an underwater cave, trapped in a cage? But James was alive, and he was coming for him, he could feel it.

Richard felt himself reaching out, trying to reach through the cave and the dark water to the surface. He wanted James to find him, to simply hold him close. He wanted James to bake a Shepherd's Pie for him and complain at him when he screwed up the eggs in the egg poacher and argue over motorcycles with him and play the piano and frustrate him with droning about airplanes. And he wanted to paint for James and laugh with James over something Jeremy's said or done and ride through the country with him and comfort him late at night after a dream by stroking his hair. And right now Richard feared he'd never get those things again. Because he'd be taken away, or both of them would be taken away and never see each other again.

It was this thought, that James would pay the price, that made an ember spark inside of Richard. James didn't deserve this at all, there was something brilliant and good and sweet about him and terrible things should never happen to this man. James was an extraordinary bloke in an extraordinary job and Richard loved him. The possibility of him suffering for Richard's sake was unfair. And for what? 

Somewhere in the background he could hear Mephistopheles chuckle. 

***

The waves of deepest slate were forcing the boat airborne. Jeremy worried about James and his bad back, knowing how violent jostling like this could injure him, because it had a couple of times on shoots. He remembered a time James raced Richard from Portofino to Saint Tropez in a speedboat. James won against Richard in a Ferrari Daytona, but the rough seas put him out of commission for days. The waves were considerably rougher now. A glance over to James said he didn't have that on his mind at the moment. The look on James' face was concentrated and focused, thinking of the task at hand, of what he would have to do. It was the same laser state he'd get waiting for the flag to drop on one of their drag races. 

James wasn't paying attention to Jeremy at the moment, however. He was reaching out, hoping there would be some sign in his soul of Richard. He'd experienced it before, when trying to rescue his love from the top of the mountain, knowing he was in trouble before anyone else realized. It had been James' voice he held onto back then in those final moments until the rescue team showed up, and James hoped now to give Richard something to hold onto now, if he needed it. 

Then, there it was, something within his own heartbeat, a voice from far away, as if from a depth: _James_. That's all it was, but it was enough.

As if attuned to James and his thoughts, Sabine suddenly ordered the driver to stop. The rain that had been lashing them during the ride was now pouring straight down upon them, a great soaking rain. She closed her eyes and listened for a moment. "It is here," she finally announced.

"What is here?" Jeremy asked.

"Where James will dive down to find the cave," Sabine answered. "He will need no equipment, he will be able to breathe." She looked at Jeremy. "This is where fate will be decided." Jeremy swallowed hard; after all the discussion, the speculation, the doubts of sanity, it came down to this time and place. He watched as Sabine placed her fingers on James' temples and stared deeply into his eyes. There were no words, but it was clear she was relaying some message or advice to him. Finally James nodded and Sabine backed away from him.

Meanwhile the sky was turning black. The wind and rain had calmed, but to Jeremy it looked as if the world was pausing, waiting to see if it would end. "May, you know you don't have to do this," Jeremy muttered, afraid of what was about to happen. 

"Yes I do, Jezza," James replied with certainty. "I am the only one who can." 

"James --" Jeremy began, then stopped. There was so much he wanted to say to his mate, so much he wanted to share about their friendship, enough where Richard would make fake retching noises and James would downright accuse him of being a big girl in normal circumstances. But this wasn't a normal circumstance and Richard wasn't here, and James was going to attempt a rescue that could end very badly.

Somehow, though, James understood, at least from the glow in his blue eyes he understood. Before another word could be spoken James leapt over the side of the boat. There were a couple of splashes as James adjusted his position, then he was out of sight. "Now we wait," Sabine said ominously .

"How will we --" Jeremy began.

"We will know," Sabine answered .

***

James was amazed by a few things after he dove into the water. For one, the water was remarkably calm despite the storm on the surface. Second, probably due to the calm of the waters below, he could actually see; no sediment was being stirred up and despite the dark skies there was plenty of light. Then, of course, there was the ability to breathe. Sabine had told him mentally that in spite of his instincts to hold his breath he should breathe normally, no water would enter his body; this was an experience far beyond what was accepted in reality, mystical in nature, and therefore certain physical realities didn't apply. So James felt as if he were swimming inside a giant bubble.

Down into the depths he dove, down and down, further and further. He saw the sandy bottom looming. He tried to keep his breathing relaxed, trying not to allow stress to enter his mind. He had to find the cave. He swam along the bottom, searching. The light began to fade; if he didn't find it soon it would become too dark in the depths to see. And then there it was: the shadowy outline of what appeared to be a mountain. Something told James he would find the cave there.

It was much farther away than it appeared, and by the time he reached the undersea mountain the light was very nearly gone. James felt as if someone or something were trying to keep him from finding the entrance, but James May was nothing if not stubborn; there simply was no deterring him once he set out to do something. And the pull of Richard kept him going. The man he loved and married was somewhere close, and he was going to find him no matter what. No matter what being--monster, supernatural, or even the Devil himself--James was going to release his dear Richard, or else.

He almost missed seeing it. Nearly out of the corner of his eye James caught a brief flash of light. He backed up slightly and then saw it clearly: a glow emanating from a void inside. He swam into it, following the light deeper and deeper into the mountain. _I'm coming, Rich, hold on_ , James said to himself.

When James surfaced he found a natural shelf of rock to use as steps and left the water. He found a corridor of sorts and followed it, chasing the glow of light he saw from outside. The light, and the sound of someone wearily singing, the song a hopeless, desperate prayer, the sound of someone dying and frightened and not wanting to die the way he was dying:

_Jesus, Jesus help me._  
I'm alone in this world, and a fucked up world it is, too.  
Tell me, tell me the story, the one about Eternity  
And the way it's all gonna be. 

At the end the corridor spilled out into a large chamber, where James found a large cage. Someone was inside, appearing to be asleep or unconscious. As James got closer, to his shock he realized who he was seeing, who it was who had been singing.

Richard had been ill around James before. Hungover, scared, in blind panic, apocalyptically angry, sleepless, exhausted, yes, but never like this, never close to unrecognizable. "Bloody hell!" James gasped, rushing to the cage and kneeling down. "Richard! Rich, I'm here! It's me!"

Slowly Richard opened his eyes, but to James the warm light that sat in them, the light that seemed to flare when excited about new adventures, the very light of his existence, was gone. His skin appeared nearly grey in tone, as if it were an effort to simply look at him. He gave James a wan grin and whispered, "I hoped you would come for me."

James felt tears cloud his vision as he stared at his husband. "I have to get you out of here," he announced. "Can you swim? Are you hurt at all?"

Richard's fingers tiredy brushed against the fingers James managed to put inside the cage. "Not hurt," he answered, struggling in his weakness to be heard. "But I can't...enough to know you came. Love you..." He closed his eyes.

"No, no, no, Hammond," James replied quickly. This was alarming; of all the times his love had faced adversity, even when Richard's brain was trying to rewire itself and James had seen moments where different emotions were all trying to surface at the same time, and Richard had been genuinely scared of what was happening and what it meant for career and family and mates, James had never seen Richard this lost. He'd never seen Richard not fight, To James, Hammond should be screaming at the heavens in rage. "Come on now," he said. "I'm not letting you go that easily. You have to hold on because I'm going to fight for you. I'm going to fight for _us_."

"Good," came a voice in the darkness. "Because that is precisely what you are here to do."

***

"You look frightened," Sabine calmly stated to Jeremy as they sat in the boat. Jeremy could see she looked as serene as she sounded.

In response Jeremy simply held up his hands and presented the scene around them. "We're sitting in a rickety boat on the water with the mother of all storms threatening to drown us," he answered. "Meanwhile I have two mates somewhere who are apparently about to fight a monster, whose victory can bring down a world of shit on all of us for challenging it. And these are my two best mates. Of course I'm scared." As if to help make his point, there was a flash of lightning and loud clap of thunder that rolled across the sky seemingly forever.

"It is interesting how you speak," Sabine mentioned. "You speak of a 'monster' instead of who it is we're actually dealing with." Sabine paused. "What do you believe, Jeremy?"

Jeremy stared out at the stormy water for a long time and didn't answer. "I know how I was raised," he finally said.. "I know what I was taught. But there is a big, big difference between what you're told and what you see. It's one thing to learn about Satan, quite another to realize you are somehow in a battle with that force." He continued to stare at the water. "If I accept that Richard had been taken by something other than a monster, and James has gone down there to save him from that monster, I have to accept that Satan really exists, and he's right down there and knows we're here. And that thought scares me. Because there is just so much in the world that is evil, and to think there is a real creature causing all of it..." He shivered.

"Do you accept the existence of God?" Sabine asked.

"I think there are things I've seen that can only come down to the existence of God," Jeremy observed. "Hammond is a good example. He should be dead many times over, but he's not. I mean, that last accident..." He wandered in the memory a moment. "He spun off a road backwards at speed, ran backward down to the next road, flipped the car, missed a _house_ , landed upside down, and the car caught fire. And all he got out of that was a broken knee. How could God not be a part of that?"

"So, if you can accept the existence of God, how can you not accept the existence of Satan?" Sabine asked gently.

To that Jeremy had no answer.

***

Mephistopheles stepped out of the shadows, looking as ordinary and sophisticated and malevolent as he ever hsd. "I had my doubts," he said. "I wondered what sort of fool would show up to release a captive of mine. And now I know." He laughed derisively. "Here is Richard, you are free to claim him. But now that you see him you may not want him after all."

"What have you done?" James asked as he looked at Richard, his blue eyes bright with fear.

"Me? I've done nothing," Mephistopheles answered, though he grinned as he answered and it was clear he wasn't quite telling the truth. "Of course I had to get you here quickly, so I started stealing his life, a little bit at a time. So even if you get him back you may not want what you do get."

James looked at Richard, his face grey and eyes dull, and saw nothing but the beautiful, energetic, enthusiastic man he loved, the man who could be cheeky and passionate and loving and wide-eyed with curiosity all at the same time. He knew that man was still inside that shell of a human being standing there in the cage. Even if who he got back would never be what he wss, that man would always be there. "You have no understanding of me, or him. Especially him," James responded, his voice firm. "I know him well. He knows of your existence but will never worship you, he's simply too good for that. Now, let him go."

"Of course," Mephistopheles replied, waving his hand. The cage disappeared. A small glow reappeared in Richard's eyes, realization he was no longer trapped. "But neither of you are free. The German woman on the surface is well aware, as are you, that you must face a test. If you win this challenge both of you are free. If not, both of you are mine. Think carefully about this before accepting, because I never lose, and with you the punishment will be very dear for trying and failing." He stepped back into the shadows. "I shall give you two minutes to discuss it."

James threw his arms around Richard and held him close, the only person the normally touch-adverse man would do this with, even considering the circumstances. "James, leave me," Richard whispered gently. "I don't want you to try this."

"I have to, Rich," James whispered back. "I can't lose you this way." He kissed the side of Richard's head and looked at him. "I have to try."

Richard shook his head. "The stakes are too high," he argued. "I can't lose you, either. I love you."

James grinned. "Trust me, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared. I'm not you, you know, and possess unending courage. This is a big risk. But I can't live with the idea of not trying to save you. So...are we together in this?" 

Richard looked directly into James' eyes and nodded. "Die together or live together," he answered. "We belong to each other.'

"You must decide," Mephistopheles stated, reentering the chamber. "Do you accept the challenge?"

James stepped forward. "I accept," he answered, determined. 

Mephistopheles again waved his hand, revealing a simple table and chairs. On the table were two clay cups and what appeared to be a crude clay pitcher. "This is the challenge," he announced with authority. "You and I shall play a game. We shall drink, you and I, until one of us becomes intoxicated. If you get me too drunk to continue, you win. If I get you too drunk to continue, I win. Do you still accept, or shall you forfeit the challenge now?"

"A drinking game?" James smirked. "is that all, really? This is no problem for me. I'm English. We drink."

"It isn't simple English pub fare," Mephistopheles replied with a smile. "This is my own concoction. I know the ingredients, I know the potency. You do not. You are not strong enough to defeat me."

James levelled a dark stare at him. "Today I am." They glared at one another, James and the being, Richard feeling the tensions rising; Mephistopheles certainly didn't like to have his authority questioned, and he didn't know what to do with those who showed no fear.

"I'm upping the ante," Richard decided. "This is going to be more than a drinking game."

"Oh, do tell," the being responded with an arched eyebrow.

"To even the odds, I shall ask questions," Richard stated. "If your answer is incorrect you have a drink. If James answers incorrectly, he drinks."

"Hammond, are you sure about this?" James whispered in his ear. "This isn't some playtime on the internet where we get drunk and play with Legos. Lives are at stake! Lives and souls!"

"Well aware of that," Richard reminded him. "My life and soul is part of that deal. But I'm not sitting off to the side while others decide my fate. If I'm going out of existence, it's under my terms." James stared back, deeply impressed. When he'd first found Richard here, he looked as if his soul were mostly in possession of Mephistopheles already, with no strength to fight. Now the flush of life was upon him again. Richard was fighting back. This same fighting spirit, which led to endless mocking from his mates over his boyish enthusiasm and obstinance and temper and occasionally standing up to people much larger than him in pubs during a Boys' Night, was the same fighting spirit that made him tough and resourceful and brave enough to face death a few times and come back alive. It was this strength James loved, his family, Jeremy, Wilman, _everybody_ loved.

Mephistopheles was amused by Richard's demand. "You forgot who you are dealing with here," he pointed out, trying to suppress his laughter. "I know a lot of things."

"I've presented quiz shows in my career. And documentaries, and shows about science," Richard fired back. "You'd be surprised at what I know."

"Very well," the being agreed after a moment. "The faster I can dispatch of you both."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyric Richard sings is from "Wake Up Dead Man" by U2. It's one of their darker songs about faith and doubt.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The questions asked in the drinking game come from the RL game where Richard and James put together a Lego set while answering trivia questions, drinking shots of (Not) Vodka. It's funny if you have the time to watch it.

Richard carefully poured the liquid that looked like water into the the two cups on either side of the table. James took a sniff; it may have looked like water, but it sure didn't smell like it. It vaguely reminded James of Vodka, though he suspected it was made from fermented potatoes from Hell. "We will start with an easy question for you," Richard said, looking at Mephistopheles. "What is the highway number on the coast of Oregon?"

Almost before Richard could take his next breath, Mephistopheles answered, "101"

to James he asked, "What company has a test track in the town of Weisak?"

"Porsche," James answered.

It went from there. Richard asked every question he could think of where he knew the answer, subjects such as science and music, as well as automotive questions, especially from the drinking game/Lego challenge he played with James. Those were questions he knew James could answer easily. Whenever there was a wrong answer, a drink was taken and Richard refilled the cup. 

Then Richard made a mistake. "Who owns the world's largest collection of motorcycles?" He figured since James had missed this one during their game he would remember it was Barber Vintage Motorsports in Birmingham, Alabama. But he didn't. It was the first drink he had to take, and he quickly realized he'd miscalculated. This was far worse than fermented potatoes from Hell. There was a genuine malignancy in this liquid, a feeling of despair and violence and every bad thing he could ever possibly consider.

By the time James had his second drink, he felt as if he'd never be happy again. By the third, it was all he could manage to not choke Richard.

***

On the surface, Jeremy couldn't believe the storm had managed to get worse. Now he was scared, truly scared, and few things truly scared him. The last time had been Hemburg, the realization as he approached that the car he saw upside down and burning was Hammond's, not the Lamborghini he expected to see.

There was lightning like a strobe light and swirling winds that acted like the wind machine in any Beyonce music video. A waterspout appeared, then another. The boat was between them. Sabine's hair was flying. "We are coming to the conclusion," she shouted over the rising roar of the wind. "Now everything will be decided."

In his own head, Jeremy began to sing the same song Richard had sung as James searched for him: _Jesus, Jesus help me, I'm alone in this world..._

He grabbed Sabine's hand.

***

Richard knew this couldn't last much longer. He was running out of questions to ask, and both James and Mephistopheles were pretty well hammered.

James, too, knew he was running out of time to save Richard and himself. Each drink he took was progressively bad, and he wanted at times to either fall down or expel the drink in the most aggressive way possible. But he didn't, because he knew what was at stake. Richard was at stake, body and soul. Jeremy and Sabine on the surface were at stake. If he lost, Sabine and Jezza would be down here in cages. And he would be gone, taken by Mephistopheles to Hell to face unending torment and imperishable flames. As if the torture of knowing Richard was there because of him wasn't torture enough. And now his brain was scrambled and he was struggling to answer questions, remembering what the answers were that he knew before. 

Mephistopheles didn't appear any more sober than James, and this was a concoction he brewed. The debonair demeanor of the demon was gone, now finding it difficult to keep his head held up off the table. He muttered incomprehensably just after taking drinks, his shining eyes now cloudy and distant, his dark hair disheveled. In the pub he would appear as a bloke who was just this side of being knee-walking drunk, but James' own cloudy brain warned him not to get too cocky, this was indeed Mephistopheles and could be trying to lure him in for some nefarious doing. It was time for Richard to ask him another question, and James realized he needed to get his answers right for the duration. Because if he had to take one more swallow of this positively evil liquor...

"What colour is the bumper insert on a 1990 Ford Fiesta XR2I?" Richard asked.

After a moment, Mephistopheles slurred, "That's easy. It's black."

No, it's blue, " Richard replied, and Mephistopheles could see in Richard's brown eyes he was absolutely right. Muttering obscenities under his breath, Mephistopheles struggled to place his hand around the cup, as he could now see two of them. He threw the drink back down his throat, feeling the burn as it reached his stomach.

Then he crashed to the floor.

"""

Amid the howling wind, the lashing rain, the lightning and waterspouts, there came an ominous rumble, a violent earthquake, and both Jeremy and Sabine became aware something might have gone terribly wrong. They were both about to face a horrible fate.

As they saw a whirlpool begin not very far away, they watched a wall of black water form and move toward the boat. Jeremy remembered the story James told about Tolkien's nightmares of a giant wave drowning out all light as it descended to destroy everything. His mates weren't here, neither were his children. He was going to die, chances being he was going to Hell. But at least he'd had a remarkable life. 

Jeremy glanced over at Sabine, who viewed the wave as a single tear rolled down her cheek. Still holding her hand, Jeremy pulled her closer and placed his arm around her shoulders. And the wave approached.

***

"YES!!!!" Richard shouted triumphantly as he realized what had happened. He stepped over to James and held him up from the table. "You did it, James! You won!"

"I won?" James asked, his eyes bleary and barely able to understand what was happening.

Richard presented the form of Mephistopheles passed out on the floor. "You most certainly won," he beamed. "I knew you had it in you. Everyone said I was just a lightweight and it made you look Bacchanalian in comparison. But I kept saying no, that you had the constitution of a mountain goat when it came to drinking. Turns out I was right."

"I had inspiration to not let it get to me," James replied. "You." Richard smiled. "Now I think it's time to leave. But first..." He wrapped Richard in a firm hug and didn't let him see his face. "God, I thought I'd never see you again," James whispered, his voice shaking.

"I didn't think you'd see me again," Richard whispered back, wrapping himself in the warmth of James' body. 

"I'm getting us out of here," James said as he held Richard's face in his hands. "Then after a proper rest, I intend to make sure you never forget that I love you."

"Wow, you must be drunk _indeed_ to say such sappy things to me outside of home," Richard chuckled. "Exactly what is in that stuff you were drinking? How does it taste?"

"You really don't want to know," James answered, patting Richard's cheek reassuringly. "But it's bad, all the worst you can imagine."

Richard stared down at the cup containing the liquor James didn't drink. He was curious, wondering if it really could be as bad as James hinted. But it looked so inviting, so cool and refreshing. _Surely not_ , Richard said to himself and lifted the cup to his lips for a tiny sip. From a distance he could hear the high-pitched whine of a jet engine, and a dark, horrifying shadow of memory formed. Richard realized quickly what that sound was, what it meant, and placed the cup back on the table without having a taste. Maybe it was better to leave some things to the imagination. 

"Where do you think you're going?" came a drunken voice. Mephistopheles stood and stared at Richard and James.

"I won your challenge," James told him. "Therefore Hammond and I are free to go. That was the deal."

"And what if I change my mind?" Mephistopheles laughed at him. "What if I simply don't choose to live up to my bargain?" He levelled a look at Richard. "I can make you pay further for leaving. If I can't have you, there are other family members who share your lifeforce. They can fulfill my needs."

"You wouldn't dare!" Richard growled, realizing his daughters had just been threatened.

"I would dare," Mephistopheles argued. "I am myself. But if I can't have Izzy or Willow, I can take James instead. Or that idiot you call a friend up on the surface. Or maybe even that German witch who doesn't know better than to meddle in forces too great for her."

"Leave them alone!" James growled, his eyes flashing with anger. "I challenged you and won. Let us go and bother us no more. I command it."

Now it was the turn of Mephistopheles to flash anger. "Command? Who are you to _command_ me? I have power here, not you!"

"If you have that power," Richard interjected darkly, "reconstruct the cage. Then place us both in it." James winced inwardly; one thing he realized someone did at their peril was impose false authority on Richard. He still had that rebellion in him, the kind that sometimes ended up with a punch to the face in younger days. But this was a demon they were dealing with, a drunk demon. Who knew how this was going to go?

Mephistopheles stepped up to Richard, towering over him. "Do not tempt me," the being warned. "You fail to remember I have unlimited powers."

"And you will need every last one of them if you dare to threaten me or mine again," Richard warned Mephistopheles back, his voice dark and calm and dangerous. Richard rarely used this voice, rippling through the air with purpose and promise. James had remembered hearing it before only once, before they were together. They'd gone out together with Jeremy and Wilman and a few others from the _Top Gear_ office. A couple of drunk arses decided they needed to pick on James, which quickly turned personal as James didn't respond. Offers to buy a round didn't work on them. When they decided to escalate it into the physical, Richard blocked them. James couldn't recall exactly what he'd said, but it had been along the lines of it being something both men would regret, with a tone so full of the statement _I will seriously fuck you up_ , not shouted or boastful, that the men slowly backed away. It was the exact same statement James was hearing now, except it was being said to an immortal being who wanted their souls.

After a moment of tense silence, Mephistopheles backed away and dropped his gaze. "You are both free to go," the being announced, grumbling. "Just bear in mind, Richard, I shall never be done with you. One day I shall steal your lifeforce to enslave others."

"And he shall be defended by those who are aware," James answered defiantly, "until his lifeforce runs out and he dies a very old man."

***

James wasn't sure exactly how it happened. But suddenly he was sitting directly across from Jeremy Clarkson in the DriveTribe conference room. He remembered being in the cave with Richard, remembering the challenge, remembered the reason he was there. But had it worked? Had he saved Richard? Was Richard alive? James glanced down at his mobile phone, noting the date and time. It was the day of the storm, of the disaster on the boat. Richard would just be starting out on his journey, before the storm and the rogue wave.

He locked eyes with Jeremy, noting by his glance that Clarkson remembered everything, too. And he was also aware it was the before-time. There were several anxious hours to go before there would be an answer.

But...what if nothing had worked? What if they had succeeded with rescuing Richard from Hell only to have him still be dead anyway?

Andy Wilman sighed with exasperation. "Have you two heard a single word I've said over the past five minutes?" he asked, "or have you two been drawing cocks in your notepads again?"

"No," Jeremy grumbled. James held up his notepad to show writing, but no doodling.

Andy shook his head. "Never mind," he told them. "It even bored me, and I said it. Okay, get to work."

Down the hall, James pulled Jeremy into his office. "Jez, what the fuck happened?"

"No idea," Jeremy answered. "One minute Sabine and I are staring at waterspouts and whirlpools and a giant mountain of black water that's about to utterly destroy us. The next I'm sitting here with you. Did you find Hammond?"

"I found him," James said, "and I won the challenge. But I'm not sure that I got Richard back at all. There was a last attempt to renege on the deal. What if--"

"We can't get bogged down on 'what if'," Jeremy warned him. "We know something did happen, because we're here. I don't know about Sabine, or Hammond, and we may not know for awhile yet. Meanwhile, I think to everyone else this is just another day, so we have to act that way, too."

"For you, maybe," James shrugged . "As for me, I was missing Hammond badly. The night before, we--"

"No! NO!" Jeremy shouted, placing his hands over his ears. "No matter what, I don't want to hear about you two having sex. I want to keep my food in my stomach, thank you!"

So it was, James tried to keep himself occupied the rest of the morning. He hoped either the storm wouldn't happen or the ferry would survive the storm, or even that Richard had somehow managed to miss the trip. He wasn't sure how he was going to manage without Richard if something had gone wrong. 

Lunchtime came, and James decided to go to the pub. He just couldn't face the tension in the office, of Jeremy's expectant glance that he'd hear from Hammond any second. James was hoping at least Sabine was at the pub to reassure him he'd done everything right. But she never showed, which caused his stomach to drop to his feet. Why wasn't she there? Sabine Gundegast was as real as Jeremy or himself, and if she wasn't around that may have meant she never existed, which meant everything was a waste of time. The storm was going to happen and a rogue wave would hit the ferry and Richard would indeed be washed over and James would be without him. 

The _coup de Grace_ happened as James stepped out of his car after returning from lunch. The mobile chimed with a news alert:

**_BREAKING NEWS_ **  
_Ferry struck by rogue wave during storm. Authorities report 'mass casualties', several washed overboard._

James had failed. If he'd succeeded, the disaster would have never happened. It was all for naught and his love was gone. And now he was going to face the fact Hammond could have been saved and he wasn't. Jeremy had to know it by now, too. The weight of the disaster threatened to crush him right there in the car park, there was no way he could handle the grief of anyone else. Still, he had to go inside. He had to face everyone else, knowing of his colossal failure. Should he tell them he knew already, spare their feelings even slightly? Should he tell them the story, even though it sounded completely mad? James wasn't sure exactly what to do next.

He entered the office and the tone was subdued. Everyone was giving surreptitious glances toward the conference room, looking as if they were working but wondering what was going on, as both Andy and Jeremy could be seen. Jezza's face was hidden in his hands; he already knows, James said to himself. Andy looked white. Slowly Jeremy stood and exited the conference room, motioning for James to follow him.

When they reached James' office and shut the door, all of it rushed out:

"James, we failed." Jeremy's face appeared bereft.

"I know. I saw the news alert."

"How? How could that happen?"

"The only way was for Mephistopheles to renege on the agreement. I won! Hammond is supposed to be here--we both stood up to him!"

"What about Sabine? What does she say?"

"She never showed up. I waited and waited."

" ** _Shit!!_** " Jeremy kicked the wastepaper basket across the room. He stood still, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to rein in his emotions. "Where do you think she is?" He asked solemnly, though deep in his heart he thought he already knew the answer.

"Taken," James answered simply, his voice dark. "Mephistopheles will be coming after all of us now. You, me, her....we'll all be punished for daring to challenge him, for trying to get Hammond back." The magnitude of what he'd said hit James hard. He stood quietly for a moment, trying to keep his chin from quivering. "Bloody hell," he whispered in horror. "I failed all of us, Jez."

Jeremy shook his head. "No, you didn't," he argued. "I could have backed out of this. You gave me the chance, more than once. I stayed because I believed, and I wanted Hammo back. I didn't want to let him go."

"I didn't, either. That's why I fought. Now I've made things worse." James turned to look out the window. The mid afternoon was beautiful, a sharp contrast to the darkness inside. "I made a promise to him," he said tearfully. "Years ago, when he came back after the accident. I promised if something were to happen on a shoot I would look after his daughters. They were so little at the time."

"We made promises to each other like that," Jeremy reminded him the tears also in his voice. "Look out for the kids. We became medical proxys for one another, too. I don't think we ever really expect..."

"No, we don't," James agreed. "Now, because I failed, they're in danger, too. Izzy and Willow carry Richard's inner fire, it was what Mephistopheles wanted to take. Now that he has Rich he won't hesitate to take them. And I can't protect them."

"James, you fought," Jeremy stated. "It was more than anyone else could do.You care for Richard that much, that you were willing to reach into Hell to try to pull him out. Only you could have been that strong, that fearless. And as tough as Hammond is, I don't think he could have been strong enough to stand up to Mephistopheles without you." There was a pause. "So I guess the question is what to do next. Do we act as if we don't know the fullest extent of our reality? Or do we understand it and go for broke, knowing our outcome? Because, honestly, mate, I've figured I'm going to Hell for half the things I've done, anyway. Fighting on the wrong side of a demon won't change that." This freed a grim chuckle from both men. "Come on. Wilman should be gathering the troops to make the announcement. We should be strong for all of them."

They walked out into the main area, where they found Andy standing before them, gathering the courage to speak. He normally didn't have this problem, especially when trying to rally everyone to a deadline or to simply kick arses into high speed, but this, of course, was different. As difficult a task as it could be. "I guess you're wondering why I'm talking to you like this," he announced softly. "A lot of you got a news alert on your mobiles about a ferry caught in a storm, and you're wondering what that has to do with us. Well, uh, it turns out our colleague Richard Hammond and a film crew from Amazon were on that ferry." The room filled with stunned gasps. "I'm telling you this now because I see James and Jeremy have appeared and I assume James has been briefed. Right now James knows as much as we know, that we have yet to hear any report of what's happened to them. At any time we expect to get bombarded with requests for a statement. To that end we will give no comment until information is confirmed. Thanks." The room was silent as everyone went back to their desks; some were visibly shaken and receiving comfort from others. Jeremy noted that as white as Andy had gone when he first heard the news, he was whiter still. James said nothing, simply heading into the conference room with Clarkson and Wilman and shutting the door.

The three men sat in silence, listening to the phones explode in ringing outside. Once again James was reminded of times they'd kept vigil like this: a hospital conference room in Leeds, a Mountain Rescue office in British Columbia, the side of a mountain in Switzerland. All those times, and other times before, Richard had turned out alright, maybe a bit banged up and dented, but still functional, like the Toyota Hilux they once tried to destroy. James and Jeremy both knew this time it wouldn't turn out that way. 

James spoke to Mindy, but he couldn't tell her anything about his experience; it was better for her and their girls to live in a kind of blissful ignorance. There was no way of knowing when Hell would come for them, but that's what ultimately would happen. Because of him. Because he failed. Jeff Bezos called and had no more information than they did, but offered unlimited support and resources. And still the phones kept ringing, even as James heard the mantra over and over of _I'm sorry, we have no comment_. He knew where Richard was, and it destroyed him to keep it from everyone. 

Then, suddenly there was nearly a shriek of excitement in the other room. James, Andy, and Jeremy stated at one another nearly in panic. "What the fuck?" Wilman muttered as they ran out of the conference room toward the sound. James and Jeremy froze.

There stood Richard, and the film crew with him. All he could do was shrug sheepishly. "I missed the ferry," he smiled.

Once again astonished silence filled the room. James stepped forward. "You were filming," he stammered. " I thought... "

"We decided early this morning we had all the footage we needed," Richard answered. "We could have stayed one more day and come back tomorrow, but it just would've been one more day's expenses. And we all wanted to come home." Richard looked around, hearing the incessant ringing of the phones. "Did I miss something?"

James was speechless. He walked up to Hammond slowly, trying to figure out what to say. He stared deeply into the face of the man he loved and married, a man he loved and lost and loved and lost so many times now he'd lost count, one who was supposed to be dead and condemned to Hell for all eternity, but wasn't. Richard was right here with him. And in response James kissed him hard. Really kissed him. Everyone was aware of Richard and James as a couple, but as neither demonstrated public affection with each other, this moment was stunning.

For his part, Jeremy didn't see it. He had gone back into the conference room, his back to the office, and stared out the window to the street. His best mates were back, one had ventured to the gates of the underworld to challenge Satan for the life of the other and won. Sneakily he wiped his eyes.

Nobody was allowed to see how much he cared.


	7. Chapter 7

James made sure everything was ready before Richard walked in the door. The table was set, the wine chilled, salad and toasted bread cut and at the table. It was a date night without actually going anywhere. There would be Spaghetti Bolognese and Tiramisu for dessert, they'd watch a movie with the lights low, the doors would be locked early. There had been more of these lately. Not that either took the other for granted, but James felt more in need to express himself.

James could recall everything that had happened, James and Jeremy both, but for Richard time had reversed. He didn't know why since the filming James had been far more attentive, more emotional, more romantic, except for the ferry accident he'd narrowly missed. That had been a matter of misreading the schedule and arriving five minutes late. The crew had gathered around and decided the footage they'd planned to shoot was extraneous and wasn't really worth waiting another four hours for the next ferry to arrive. None of them were aware there had been a question of survival for any of them until they'd reached the DriveTribe office. But Richard was seeing the effects: James leaving escape routes for Hammond when holding him at night and paying more attention to him when having a boring conversation. Sexually James didn't restrain Richard as tightly as before, though Richard still enjoyed being bound and commanded. And Richard could see the effects within himself, how sometimes a small room or closet would feel just closer than normal or how some nights he had confusing dreams of being in an underwater cave, waiting for someone to find him.

Jeremy had a benefit of his experience as well, and it involved one Sabine Gundegast. Sabine did not return to the pub where they'd met for nearly three weeks, but then one day she was just there. Jeremy had been by himself that day, and thought she might only wish to speak to James, considering he had doubted her. But suddenly she was approaching the table where Jeremy had been sitting and smiled. She had remembered everything as well, and after recounting the details of their own adventure, Jeremy invited her to tea, then ultimately out to dinner. They had been dating for a month, and during their dates Jeremy and Sabine didn't talk about cars or folklore or psychic abilities or even spiritual matters. They actually enjoyed each other.

Maybe that was a lesson to take away from all this, James mused. Jeremy and Sabine were appreciating each other, now there was no life-or-death decisions to be made. James and Richard were doing the same thing, more so than before. Maybe the lesson was to enjoy the little things with the ones you love, because you never knew when you wouldn't have those little things.

And sometimes the most inconsequential of things turn out to be the most consequential of all. They could spare you a fate actually worse than death.

Like a blue bumper insert on a 1990 Ford Fiesta XR2I.

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thanks to everyone who's read or commented or left kudos. It is appreciated greatly. More is coming soon, another blast of silliness from me.

**Author's Note:**

> The legend of Soul Cages has been interpreted by Sting, which is where I first heard of it, but the folklore is very old. It's told among fishing cultures primarily in Northern England and Ireland.


End file.
